


God is a woman

by zahirdemons



Category: Vis a Vis | Locked In (Spain TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Gods & Goddesses, F/F, LGBT, Macarena Ferreiro - Freeform, Zulema Zahir - Freeform, Zurena
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-20
Updated: 2020-12-23
Packaged: 2021-03-10 23:21:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,086
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28195359
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zahirdemons/pseuds/zahirdemons
Summary: The AU where Zulema is literally a Goddess while Macarena is just a human so this means that their story  is doomed since the beginning.
Relationships: Macarena Ferreiro/Zulema Zahir
Comments: 3
Kudos: 20





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> You can find the Italian version of this fanfic on Wattpad - I'm @/its_millsnolan there :)

There is no beginning.

There is no end.

When you walk and live for such a long time, you realize that each day becomes basically the same as the next. No need to try, after centuries nothing can surprise you anymore, not even the strangest things.

She knows this well enough. She knows it better than anyone else. Her eternal existence has turned into a condemnation. Forced to live forever in a monotonous time loop, stuck in an instant of her past that she will never forget. That fucking moment when everything changed; when everything collapsed; when every certainty disappeared. There is no salvation for her. It is the one luxury she cannot afford.

If she could end her own life, she would do that immediately. She has thought about it so many times that she has almost lost count, but unfortunately for her it is not possible. She wasn't created to die. She was shaped at the dawn of time to live forever, _**to exist**_. It is the very essence of every being like her.

Eternal, immortal and impossible to change. Wonderful creatures so powerful that they can kill with a simple glance or the movement of their hand. A quite useful ability, she must admit.

The power of a look, of a whisper, that makes any prey fall in love with its hunter before being brutally murdered. It is not cruelty. No, it's the simple law of the strongest that has always governed the world. There is no room for the weak. Weakness, as we know, is the first step towards death.

They have taught her to exploit her talents, to make herself loved at any cost, to annihilate anyone who decides to get in her way, so here's what she does: she doesn't kill, she just puts the old teachings into practice, she survives, she takes back everything they've taken from her.

Is she cruel for this? Maybe she is, but she doesn't care. She doesn't care about anything or anyone anymore. Her only reason of living is gone, extinguished like a small light in an ocean of darkness.

Everything has been taken from her.

Even her old name has changed, but nothing can ever erase it completely.

That name defines her, reminds her of where she comes from, what she has loved and what she has lost.

That name is her story.

She is Astarte. 


	2. Fallen Gods

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You'll probably struggle to understand at the beginning. It's ok. The next chapter will make the story more clear, I promise. I just needed this specific episode to be told immediately. Anyway, worry not, Maca and Zulema are on their way. ;)

"Run! Get out of here!" she screams with all the breath she has in her lungs.

"No, I'm not leaving you alone," the woman at her side replies as she grips her arm tightly to hold her back.

She turns to look into her eyes. She wants her to see it, to understand what is about to happen. And it is in that moment that the younger woman realizes that her eyes, those wonderful eyes, have already changed color. They are red as fire. That's not a good sign and she knows it. They mean only one thing: she is ready to fight.

This is how the creatures of the sky express their emotions, _through their eyes_. You only have to look at them to understand everything. Every little shade represents a different emotion, but red, that's the worst of them all. It symbolizes fury, struggle and cruelty. When their eyes take on that color, it's time to run. In those moments when the color intensifies, the body acquires energy that they channel into their hands and then release it against their enemies.

This is how entire kingdoms have been razed to the ground. Some stupid human beings during the course of history have tried to challenge the Gods to prove them they were stronger, needless to say it never ended well. You can't compete with the unknown, the unpredictable. You simply can't.

"I told you to leave!" he scolds her, trying to hold back the anger that is now mounting inside her with too much force to be contained much longer.

"We said we would stay together forever!" the other woman pleads, trying to calm her down and reminding her the words they had exchanged only a couple of weeks before in their field, the one they used to go when they wanted to be alone.

"I remember exactly what we said to each other, but now things have changed, _Mireya_. Leave or I'll force you to do it and you definitely won't like it,", she tells her in a serious tone.

Mireya can no longer hold back her tears. She doesn't want to leave. She doesn't want to _leave her_. She is not ready for that yet. It's not the right time.

"Please...", she says one more time, kneeling before her and begging her to stay, to give up the already lost war and get to safety with her.

"You don't owe them anything. You don't have to fight. They never did it for you, you know that!" She clings to her leg like a child, and for a moment the older woman's confidence almost fails.

Mireya is so young, so beautiful, and yet so fragile. She can't risk anything happening to her. Abandoning her is the last thing she wants, but there is no alternative. Her "family" needs her and no matter how much they hurt her in the past, she can't back down. It would be a betrayal and it would eventually put Mireya's life in danger.

Yes, because creatures like her don't know mercy. Actually, neither should she, and yet she has always been different from the others.

For centuries she couldn't explain the meaning of those strange sensations she felt, until one day her husband Adon explained her that what she felt were " _feelings_ ", just as humans called them. He, on the other hand, had called them a _"factory glitch"_. Emotions were not for people like them, it would only make them weak. Better not to feel anything than to feel something that could destroy them.

A sob brings her back to reality. Mireya has now burst into uncontrolled tears. She tugs at her leg, pleading her, crying her name again and again like a litany. But the woman turns her back careless.

"I never said we would be together forever. The time has come for us to part. Goodbye, _blondie_." she tells her before disappearing from her sight already clouded with tears.

Mireya collapses to the ground while with her hands she angrily rips some tufts of grass from the surrounding lawn. She would like to hate her with all of herself for leaving her alone forever. But the one she hates more than anything else is herself. She hates herself for being stupid enough to fall in love with a woman like her. All men know it's a mistake to fall in love with a God. They are not made for such a feeling.

She lifts her weight on her arms and stands up again while with one hand she adjusts the folds of the long cream colored dress that wraps her slim body. Then she brings a hand to her head to undo the now completely disheveled braid. As her fingers works to untie the knots, she hears a noise behind her. She is about to turn around, when a stabbing pain hits her in the belly and then immediately radiates to every part of her body. Her eyes widen and caught in an instant of pure shock she instinctively brings her hands to where the pain seems to feel more intense. Stumbling on her feet, she turns in the direction of the person, or rather, the being that hit her with all its force.

She meets his gaze. He's tall, proud and doesn't feel the slightest remorse for what he's just done. He doesn't even stop to make sure she actually dies. Instead, he turns around and starts running in the opposite direction.

At that very moment, Mireya realizes that this is really the end. She leans forward and falls to her knees while a scream breaks the almost surreal silence around her.

Her vision blurs and her body begins to shake.

" _Shivering is never a good sign, my child_ ," her mother, who had worked as a midwife for as long as she could remember, and who unfortunately knew death very well, used to tell her.

Now she finally understands what she meant.

Chills.

When you get a fever, your body heats up, but you just feel a mortal cold.

What a horrible way to go.

Alone, abandoned and victim of the unbelievable cold that not even the hottest flame could stop.

She closes her eyes.

She's too tired.

She just wants to sleep.

She knows what that means. She knows that if she falls asleep it's the end, but she really can't keep her eyes open.

She is about to lose her personal battle with death when she feels a gentle hand lift her head and move a strand of hair from her face.

"Mireya, what have they done to you, my love?!", sobs the figure above her.

She can't get focus on the features of that face, but that voice, that amazing voice, she might recognize it among thousands. 

It's her.

She's...

"Astarte?!", whispers Mireya without strength.

"Shh, don't talk. It's me. Don't be afraid. I am here with you. Please don't leave me. I'm sorry. I shouldn't have left you. It's all my fault."

Her voice is broken and Mireya knows that it's not a good sign. Not even she, the great and powerful Astarte, goddess of love and war, can save her. She is capable of many things, but not of giving life back to someone who lost it. Whoever reaches the Underworld stays in the Underworld. That's the rule, and the only people who tried to break it many years before didn't come out alive.

She struggles to open her eyes. She wants to see her one last time. She needs it.

Her eyesight doesn't cooperate, but she manages to bring the features of her face into focus.

She is so beautiful with those wet cheeks, her black hair falling over her shoulders, and those beautiful eyes that have now taken on a new shade of light blue.

"Don't cry...it's not your fault..." she tries to say.

Astarte shakes her head. She doesn't want her forgiveness. She doesn't deserve it. Not after what she did to her.

"Hey...," Mireya continues with some effort. "Look at me, please."

The goddess forces herself to look into her eyes. Those exact same beautiful green eyes that made her fall in love with her.

"This is not your fault. This had been our destiny our destiny since the beginning. We always knew it, after all."

A cough shakes her now weak body.

"We always knew it, but we fought anyway. We never liked rules. We are two free spirits. I loved you every day convinced I could live forever just like you. What a fool I've been!"

She smiles slightly as Astarte wipes away a tear trying to be strong for her.

"For me this is the end. But for you this is just a small piece of an endless existence. Please promise me that you will never give up on your feelings. They are the truest and most alive thing in you. Even if your heart is still, I feel it beating every moment. I love you, Astarte."

Those last words escape her lips like a distant whisper.

"I love you too, Mireya," the goddess tells her, holding her close.

She's about to give her a kiss on the lips when she realizes that she's gone now. She didn't even hear that declaration of love. She's gone forever and with her also Astarte's strength to fight, to love, to live.


	3. London

_London, 2005_

Almost two millennia had passed since Astarte's life had taken an unexpected turn. The world as she had always known had taken on a new aspect that for her kind could only mean one thing: it was the end of the golden age of the great Olympian Gods.   
Since then, she had done nothing but wander on Earth, a place she had secretely always loved. In the long moments of boredom she had often stopped to observe those strange human beings who, despite their short mortal life, lived their existence as if it was eternal, as if the days would never end. Not to mention the charm of their emotions that sometimes mirrored her own, making her feel less lonely.   
There were those who cried, those who were desperate, those who loved deeply and those who did it obsessively, those who were happy, those who were angry, and each feeling contained within it so many facets that she could have spent the rest of her long immortal life admiring them.

But then, the thrill of the new had soon faded and each day had become the same as the next. Only fashion changed, but the people remained the same. At one point she had even decided to use hes power to start two world wars to shake things up a bit. It turned out to be the biggest mistake she had ever made. The horror she was forced to witness simply made her sick to her stomach. She couldn't believe she'd done it just for the sake of feeling something again.   
But the truth was that without Mireya there was no reason to have feelings at all and she had lived in total apathy ever since. No love, no hate, _nothing_. She had practically turned into an ordinary deity, anonymous among both Gods and mortals. If it hadn't been for her rare beauty, even on earth she could have easily gone unnoticed. Partly it was like that, she only had to put on a long black hoodie and a pair of boots to look like one of those people that humans liked to call " _weirdos_ ".   
Only when she was hungry she allowed herself the luxury of taking off those baggy clothes and replacing them with something that her prey of the moment would surely enjoy. 

That particular night was one of them. She hadn't fed in a few days, she was actually disgusted by that way of life. She surely preferred when humans sacrificed themselves for her, to give her life energy, but it hadn't been like that for so long that she almost didn't remember what it felt like to have all that power without the slightest effort. 

She had opted for a tight black suit with a dangerously v-neck jacket that didn't leave much to the imagination and stilettos of the same color. Her long black hair fell softly over her shoulders and left her ears uncovered, making her look like an elf.   
Her eyes had taken on the color of emerald, green and hypnotic, making it clear to those who could read them that she was hunting. She just had to choose the perfect prey and to do that she had chosen a pub not too far from the center of London. 

After carefully analysing every person inside the place she had sat down at the counter and ordered a gin and tonic. That stuff sucked, but she needed something strong to get her through the night. The bartender placed the cocktail in front of her and took a moment too long to look at her, causing a sense of pride in her. She had always enjoyed being admired, especially when she knew she had chosen the right oufit. 

"Here you go!" he told her as he placed the glass on the counter.  
"Thank you." she replied without ever breaking eye contact. 

He wasn't going to be her next victim, but flirting with total strangers was an hobby she loved and almost considered as a sort of foreplay to warm up and prepare herself for the night's main course. 

She left the bartender alone to scan the room lit only by psychedelic red and blue lights. The music was pumping in the speakers while some girls sitting on black leather armchairs were rubbing themselves against a couple of men who looked very uninviting, at least not for Astarte.   
She took a sip of her cocktail and lost herself for a second in the music that filled the atmosphere. At that moment a man who seemed to be in his late thirties entered her peripheral vision. He sat down next to her and pretended not to have even seen her, even though it was clearly impossible for her to go unnoticed that night.   
She stared at him for a moment trying to read him, to understand his intentions and she was eventually happy to see that he was now looking at her too.

The first step was taken.   
Eye contact was everything in these cases. It was the best way to hook her preys and lead them to do exactly what she wanted. 

He was a tall, good-looking man even though his red hair made him look strangely younger than his age. He was almost certainly Irish, or at least one of his parents must have been. 

"Can I buy you another drink?", he asked her smilingly after a couple of minutes.  
Astarte didn't say a word. She simply stood up and moved one chair closer to him.   
It was at that moment that the man focused on the tear-shaped tattoo that ran down the woman's left cheek. At first he had thought it was a bit of mascara, but now he realized that it wasn't. It was an actual mark on her perfect skin. As strange as it might have seemed, that mark made her even more attractive. He wondered for a moment, if he should ask her about the meaning of that long black line, but in the end he just decided he didn't care so much. He hadn't gone there to talk about tattoos, he was there to find anyone he could take to bed. He didn't do it often, but things at work sucked, not to mention his miserable and practically non-existent love life. 

"Do you have a name?", he asked trying to appear seductive even though he actually sounded more awkward than anything else.   
Astarte laughed and brought her glass to her lips to take another sip of gin tonic.   
"My name is **_Zulema_** ," she said simply.

She had repeated that name so many times over the past few years that it no longer sounded so unnatural to her. She had chosen it to better fit into the modern world. Her godlike name would have sounded too strange, especially in the twenty-first century.   
So she had become Zulema Zahir, a mysterious, elusive woman whom no one could ever fully know because she disappeared whenever she was asked too much details about her life. 

"Zulema, huh? Nice name! Foreigner?", the man asked again, trying to strike up a conversation before taking her to bed.   
She nodded.  
"So...," he did not know exactly how to continue.   
"Look, there's no need for you to try to strike up a conversation to put me at ease and then ask me to join you at your flat to fuck. There's no need for that, believe me. I know exactly how these things work. That's why I'm here too," she told him, leaving him stunned. He knew it was about to happen, but it still felt strange that she had accepted so easily. 

"Don't make that face. No one goes to a club without a second purpose. I want to have just as much fun as you do," she added as she leaned closer to his ear to whisper the last sentence before leaving him with a soft kiss on the lips.   
"Let's get out of here," he said after holding his breath for a good half second. 

Zulema followed him out the door abandoning the rest of her gin tonic on the almost deserted counter.   
Outside the cold air sent a shiver down the man's spine, but it didn't touch Zulema in the slightest who never felt too cold or too hot. Her body knew how to regulate its temperature according to the weather conditions.   
She followed the man to his apartment, which was only about two blocks away from the club. It was a shitty place, typical of a London bachelor who had not yet decided what to do with his life and who had clearly never lived with a woman.   
Even the stench of alcohol had stuck to the walls, to never leave them again. 

The guy cleared his throat to break the unnatural silence between them.  
"Oh, I'm so dumb, sorry I didn't even introduce myself. I'm Matthew, but everyone calls me Matt."  
Zulema rolled her eyes. She didn't give a damn about his name, in fact if she hadn't known it would have been even better. A prey wasn't supposed to have a name.   
"Nice to meet you, Matt. Are we going to fuck now or do we need to go into more unnecessary pleasantries?" she said annoyed, and also very hungry at that point.  
"Uhm, sure this way," he led the way, escorting her into the bedroom and saying something clearly embarrassed by the situation.

_Jesus Christ, she had picked the clumsiest of them all!_

She wasn't even going to enjoy killing him. If she hadn't been so hungry she probably would have left him to go look for another victim, but it was too late and her stomach was already tasting his blood. 

She pushed him hard on the bed, sitting on top of him. Matt's breathing immediately became heavier. The woman on top was gorgeous, in his entire life, he had never slept with such a woman. Definitely too far out of his league.  
He made a mental note to tell his best friend about how lucky he had been that night. 

Truth is, he didn't know he'd been anything but lucky. It would have been better for him to stay home drinking a disgusting beer in front of a reality show like he did every night rather than being on the same room, let alone bed, as Zulema. 

She leaned over him, kissing his neck fiercely. It aroused him instantly. It was so easy with humans, all it took was a couple of well-placed neck kisses and a few seductive words to get the blood pumping directly down there. She heard him moan as her tongue drew an imaginary line down his neck. It was at that moment that she saw him close his eyes in pleasure while with his legs and torso he moved under her, ready to be undressed.   
She just lifted herself up a bit and ripped off his jacket and shirt in one swift movement leaving him shirtless. Then, after making sure he was too distracted to notice what she was doing, she ran a blade down the right sleeve of her sleek jacket. By the time the man opened his eyes again and noticed the gleaming tool in her hands, it was already too late. With a strong push she hit his ribcage opening it in two parts. Matt's eyes rolled until they went completely white and after a couple of seconds she saw him lying lifeless under her. At that point she slipped one hand directly into the opening she had created and pulled out his still beating heart.  
She licked it to clean the dripping blood and then began to bite it until she swallowed it completely. She had finally regained her strength. She felt more powerful than ever.   
Of course the taste wasn't the best. She had eaten much tastier people in the past. Like that woman in Morocco about fifty years before. She was good. She still remembered her intoxicating apple scent. Zulema was her name. Yeah, just like her. Well, actually, she had taken that name from her. It had given her a sense of justice. She had ripped her heart out and eat it after all, so she had taken her name in return, it was as if a part of that woman still lived on through it. 

As she enjoyed her new meal, she thought about what her life had become. A powerful creature, loved and idolized by all, now found herself forced to hunt for her meals in those fucking pub. Condemned to an existence with no meaning, abandoned by her own kind, disowned by her husband, constantly searching for something, anything, that could make her feel alive again. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now you know a part of the truth. Astarte is our beloved Zulemita who changed her name just to fit in our modern world. Hope you're enjoying the story so far. Thanks for reading.

**Author's Note:**

> I promise this is a zurena fanfic. Just trust me with this one. Soon you'll find everything out and hopefully it will make sense lol
> 
> Hi, I'm @/elelfodenajwa on Twitter, if you wanna come and say hi :)


End file.
